Picture Makes Perfect
by Tyler the Awesome Guy
Summary: My first Meg Griffin fan fiction on this site. Meg Griffin battles against other kids from around the United States in a painting contest, making friends and enemies along the way.
1. One

**Picture Makes Perfect**

**(Meg Griffin Fan Fiction)**

To relieve the stress of her day-to-day life, Meg Griffin of Quahog, Rhode Island decided to take up painting in secret. After picking up some paints from Goldman's Pharmacy and an easel from a nearby Wal-Mart, she began to paint ongoing artworks every day in her room while no one was around. This was per request of a therapist she went to in another town who suggested taking up a hobby to reduce her anxiety. She wasn't really into all the suggestions that he suggested for her, but he did mention that it didn't matter what the way was, as long as it worked. For the following month, Meg tried a lot of things to try to reduce stress. Nothing really worked, except for painting. She remembered painting some pictures in elementary school and in kindergarten, but those ones were pretty crappy. She later watched a small tutorial series on YouTube on how to paint well. Now, she's been working on her eighth canvas picture. Normally, she would look her door on her room so none of her deranged family could come in and critique. She could imagine her dad Peter just laughing and setting the canvas on fire. Her mom Lois would try to say something nice, but would probably laugh even more hysterically than Peter did. Her youngest brother Stewie would hate everything about it and destroy it. "What the deuce is this? My eyes are bleeding!" he would say. Meg pretends that she doesn't understand her infant brother talking, but she always knew that. It was really Brian, her dog, who gave the most advice and kindness about her hobby. He looked at her sunset picture and praised her use of colors and shades to emphasize the realism, or would say that the grass in her African Savannah picture had a real, gritty quality to it and that he liked how he didn't put on kid-gloves over the violence of her picture of the kid who was beaten up by a street gang. Her painting process was slow, sometimes even spending all day on one picture. Once she even spent an entire weekend on one art project.

Today was different however. Meg was making her newest work as perfect as it can possibly be. This was because she saw a poster at her school, James Woods High, advertising a nationwide art contest. It said that if you send canvases to the address on the poster, then you could be amongst the ones they select in Rhode Island to compete in New York City for the grand championship. The deadline to get the paintings in was that Saturday. The qualifications were nature-themed paintings, but it said on the poster that if they were selected to compete in the finals, then there would not be a theme. Meg recalled a special postcard she saw the other day while in Goldman's Pharmacy that featured a forest in autumn with all the birch trees' leaves a variety of colours. It also had mountains and a river flowing by. It said on the postcard that the picture was taken in Canada. Meg never went there, but now kind of wanted to.

"Hey, Meg," said a voice. It was Brian. Normally, she would shoo away her family of naysayers who form a rabid disdain for her work, but Brian was the only person who openly said he liked her paintings.

"Oh, hey, Brian," she said, continuing to paint. Her apron, which she knitted herself, added another paint blob to its collection as a bit of blue paint from her brush accidentally landed there as she was speaking to Brian.

"Is this the painting you're submitting for the art contest?"

"Yep!"

"May I see?" Meg wasn't quite finished, still having to add the finishing touches before submitting her canvas to the contest. After all, the deadline ended in a week.

"Sure, just a sec." She turned the canvas so that Brian could see her work. She still had some of the water to complete and she didn't start on the clouds in the sky, but other than that, she was about ninety percent finished.

"Oh my God, Meg! This is great!" he said with enthusiasm after his eyes lit up.

"You really think so?"

"Of course. I mean, it's like I'm actually there, like I'm seeing the real thing."

"Oh thanks. You're so sweet."

"So, hey, I'm just curious," Brian said changing the subject, "did you tell your parents about this?"

"Uh..., well..." Meg said slowly.

"You didn't tell them?"

"They are so judgmental and narrow-minded. Besides, they never liked any of my stuff I worked on." Brian was going to say 'That's not true' until he realized that she was correct. "The only person I trust in madhouse is you."

"Aw, thanks." Meg recalled how her parents were never there to support her in anything, even in kindergarten when the kids made stuff out of paper and glue, Peter would usually destroy him and laugh. It was that turmoil that she didn't want to go through again. It was time for her to no longer be the shit of the family and to start branching out.

"Hey, did you fill out your entry form?"

"Oh my God!" Meg realized she had to fill in the entry form, and then send it with the painting if she was going to enter. After all, if she made it through to the finals, how would they get in touch with her? She grabbed the form from her side table next to her bed and a pen. "I will do that right now."

"Oh, and Meg... good luck,"

"Thanks again."

"You're–" Brian was then interrupted by Stewie in another room. "Come on, Bri. Quit talking to Megan, put on this dress and play 'tea party' with me." Brian then sighed exasperatedly and obediently went into Stewie's room. "That crazy kid," Meg thought.

The first thing she had to fill in was "Name." She thought of writing in her real name, but stopped after writing 'Meg' on the paper. She deliberated that if anyone from James Woods High saw that her name in the finals list or knew she made it in to the finals if she made it, then they would give her their "congratulations" in crappy gifts. She especially thought that if her bully Connie D'Amico made it in that she would ridicule her to no end, or kill her, whichever comes first. She also didn't want all the negative criticism from the family, so she decided to write an alias. She wrote 'an' at the end of Meg so it said 'Megan' on her name. She figured that because it was a popular name, that no one would be the wiser. She thought of using Lois' maiden name, Pewterschmidt, but quickly shot that down because it was too long. Then she realized that if she got rid of the 'pewter' from the name, then her alias would be Megan Schmidt. That, to her, had a good ring to it, and it sounded perfect. The other stuff was standard. Address, Email address, Age, etc.

After thirty more minutes, she finished her picture. She got out a cardboard box big enough for her canvas in the basement, put the entry form in it, packed it with Styrofoam and set off for the Post Office. It closed at 6 and it was approaching 5:30. Peter was sitting on the couch watching some crappy show on television. Meg had to carry this big, cardboard box, and for a 5-foot girl without a lot of upper-body strength, this was a bit of a hassle. She got about halfway to the door, when she heard something.

"Just a minute there," it was Peter. He muted the T.V. and slowly walked over towards Meg until his shadow was over her completely. Meg was sweating and her heart was beating like crazy; she was so worried that she had been caught. "Just what-cha got there, missy?"

"Got where?" Meg said hesitantly. Lying wasn't her forte.

"In that box there. Seems awful big for one so... ugly." 'Again, with the ugly bullshit' she thought. She knew she had to make something up and quick. Then it hit her...

"There is a live capybara in this box and I am going to bring him to the zoo and use the proceeds to buy a DeLorean." Peter just stood there, and didn't change his facial expression.

"Is this true?"

"Yes?", she gulped. After a long pause, Peter turned around. "Lois, I did it. I was a good dad today."

"Good for you, Peter," Lois said in the distance. "Come over to the kitchen and have some cookies."

"Yay!" Peter giggled like a little kid, clapping and jumping up and down. Meg just stood there, dumbfounded that he bought it. But that quickly changed when she reassured herself that her father is an idiot.

Meg managed to get to the post office and mail her painting to the contest. Now only time will tell if she would move on, or face a deafening blow.


	2. Two

A week went by and nothing was heard from the contest. Meg was starting to get worried. It was that exactly a week later that they were having breakfast. Meg had the sneaking suspicion that her cereal was tainted with the smells of Peter and Chris' farts. Did she believe it? Yes, she did.

Peter entered the room with a stackful of mail in his hand.

"Hey, Peter. What's in the mail today?" Lois asked at the dinner table.

"I'll check." Peter started reading of the letters one by one. "Bill, bill, bill, jury duty, restraining order, you may already be a winner, have you seen me? Nope..." but he stopped at the last letter. After a small pause, "Who is Megan Schmidt?" Meg's eyes immediately shot open. She realized that it was from the contest, but she still didn't tell her parents a thing. With quick thinking, she got up from the table and snatched away the envelope.

"She's a friend of mine..." she hesitantly paused throughout the lie; "from school... new transfer student... from Canada..." she started to walk away with the letter in her hand.

"Wait a minute." Lois interrupted. "Meg, you have a friend?" She then whispered, "Who are you trying to kid?" Meg then walked up to her, pulled on her shirt and whispered; "Now listen, you just go along with it..." Meg then pulled out a twenty dollar bill out of her purse and continued, "Then maybe there won't be any... accidents." Lois just sat there stunned as Meg walked away into her room. Once in her room she locked the door, hopped into her bed and tore open the letter.

It read...

_"Dear Ms. Schmidt,_

_ On behalf of Picture Makes Perfect Nationwide Art Contest, we have humbly accepted your entry into the contest. You are through to Round 1 of the contest in Providence, Rhode Island. Please report to the Charlie Day Auditorium for orientation and the first round in exactly one week._

_ See you there._

_Dr. Filbert F. Fleck, _

_Executive Producer of "Picture Makes Perfect"_

It was at this moment that a large grin grew upon Meg's face. She then proceeded to silently scream in excitement running around her room. That lasted about fifteen minutes, then she came to the realization that something good happened to her. Usually, nothing good ever happened to her. She decided to change all that for the better. 'That old life is gone, the past is in the past', she thought. 'I will never go back to that!'

A knock sounded upon the door. Meg said worriedly, "Who is it?"

"Relax, it's just me," it was Brian.

"Oh... good."

"Peter told me that you went up to your room because you were PMSing or something?" (Typical ass-wipe, Meg thought).

"Oh no, this came for me in the mail!" Brian was handed the letter broke out his reading glasses and started to read it. It took him about 30 seconds. "Oh my God! Meg, that's wonderful! I knew you could do it."

"I know! But... I have a problem."

"Oh, w-what is it?"

"My parents just wouldn't understand, or even give a flying shit about this, and since my parents won't allow me to have a car of my own, I thought... maybe, if you're not doing anything that day, do you think you could accompany me in Providence, you know, for good luck?"

"Well, gee, I... uh... this is surprising," Brian walked toward her window. "Well, I was going to chase that car, bark at that cat, fight that stupid dog who stole my bone... but I guess all that is secondary, if it means I can spend time with my favourite friend's daughter."

"Really?" Meg said, giving Brian a hug. "Oh, thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so much!"

"You're... welcome." She was hugging him a little too hard for his liking. "You're... squishing... me."

"Huh, oh... sorry." She stopped hugging Brian.

"That's alright. Now you better hurry up, you don't want to be late for school."

"Right, can't be late. See ya." She then grabbed her backpack and ran off straight to James Woods High. Even though that day of school was just like every other day of torment, ridicule and neglect, Meg didn't care. She still kept that same grin on her face (which caused some worry among some people). She knew that that life was only temporary, and that she only had to endure that bullshit for only a couple school days more.


	3. Three

A week went by, and Meg was carrying a large suitcase full of her belongings. The suitcase was heavy and Meg didn't have a lot of upper-body strength, a curse really, so it took her a while to carry it from her room to Brian's car.

"I wonder what's taking Meg..." he thought sitting in his car ready to drive. "If we don't get on the road soon, we may not make Providence in time." Meg then walked out slowly carrying the suitcase with both hands. Brian immediately leapt out of the car, and ran over to help her because it looked like she was going to drop it.

After helping her regain her balance, Brian inquired, "My God, Meg, did you pack everything in the house?"

"Oh, it's not that much..." Meg had the tendency to pack a little bit too much on trips like this. "Did you find a suitable hotel?"

"Yeah," I mentioned, carrying Meg's suitcase for her, all while straining with her heavy bag, "I managed to find a room at the Barrington in Providence that's affordable. After all, I got lots of residuals after that critic from Rolling Stone called 'Faster than the Speed of Love' the best romance novel he had read since Twilight."

"Um...," Meg said just before taking a brief pause, "I don't know if that's exactly a compliment."

"Oh." They just stood there for about five seconds, then walked into the car and changed the subject. Brian was driving and Meg took the front passenger seat. "You know, I just want to say I'm really proud of you, you know, for this accomplishment."

"Thanks again. You know... I really feel like my life is going in a different direction. One day, I am getting fart in my face by a jerk-off excuse for a father, and the next, a gifted, noble artist with a large community of fans who adore me. I feel as great as Miley Cyrus..." a brief awkward pause befell the car, "well, you know, before she went all insane."

Brian just gasped, "Oh." Brian started up the car, but then he was interrupted a loud, slurring voice coming from inside the Griffin house. It was Peter, drunk as a sailor.

"Hey, Brian..." he said in the house.

"Oh my God!" Meg said worriedly, "he'll see me the car, and he'll just resent me and say my art sucks. I don't want to bring myself down off this high. What should I do?"

"Okay, don't panic. Don't panic." Brian had to think quickly, "uh, here. Duck down under the dashboard." Meg crammed herself into the footrest until Peter couldn't see her, even from the front step. It was cramped; Meg had tried to lose some weight, but was slacking off recently. Damn, I really wish I wasn't cheating on my diet, she thought.

Peter opened up the front door and yelled at Brian. He was dressed in nothing but a housecoat and had a half-empty beer bottle in his hand.

"Brian... Bri-dog, Bri-o, Bri-o-rama, Bri-you-gotta-be-so-mean," that last one was a stretch because he had just listened to "Mean" by Taylor Swift while being drunk. Don't ask.

"Uh, w-w-what?" Brian was stuttering a bit, he thought the jig was up.

"Where the hell... do you think...," Peter was slurring his words, swaying and brief pausing during his sentences because he was so wasted, "...you are going?"

"I am going to a writers' conference... in Warwick... for a few days." Brian wasn't good at telling lies.

"Writers' conference?" Peter somewhat suspected that Brian was up to something despite him being so drunk. "Hey... wa–wait just a minute there, bub... Are you, a-a-a-are you telling me... the-the-the-the truth?"

"Uh...yes?"

"Oh excellent." Peter then turned around walked back in. Brian briefly saw Peter's ass as he turned around. It was not a pretty sight. "H-h-h-hey, Lois! Brian's going to kill himself."

"Kill," Lois laughed in background, "that's a funny word..." turned out she was even drunker that her husband was at that point.

Brian then breathed a sigh of relief, as Meg came up from the footrest of the car. Her face, toque and clothes covered with the filth and dirt and grime.

"Whoa, man, that was a close one." Meg said then.

"Yeah..." after a brief pause, Brian added as he started up the car, "I've never seen Peter that drunk of his ass before."

As they were pulling out of the driveway, Meg replied back, "Oh, ha-ha! Good sir, I beg to differ. Remember that summer party with the bouncy house when I was eight."

"Oh yeah, right..."

"I tell you, lots of angry letters from parents that day..." it was that time that they pulled out into Spooner Street and started to head off to Providence.


End file.
